Titanic, 1912 (The Symbiont Time Travel Adventures Series, Book 5): Young Adult Time Travel Adventure

by T. L. B. Wood

  “I think you should go,” he replied. Pushing against the back rest of the chair, he sat up a little straighter. His dark eyes, alert and perceptive, met mine. “And I say this as a traveler, which many of the Twelve are most certainly not. Well, there are a couple of them…” He shook his head as if to force himself to not begin to ramble.

  “Would you make this trip?” I persisted.

  “Yes, I would have gone, me and Lydea, when I was young and full of energy and still believing I had the world by the tail. The Titanic is active and alive today, through the memories and human fascination with her. There have been shipwrecks with greater loss of life, but Titanic was and always will be special. It is indefinable but true.” Despite the heater, the room was still a little cool; Fitzhugh curled his hands around the warmth of the porcelain mug.

  “But to be in the midst of such emotion, watching people go to their death and not being able to help…” I shook my head.

  “You’ve been involved in wars,” he replied. “I know of several trips you’ve made to the Civil War, and you became engaged with people who were destined to die on the battlefield. How is this different?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, looking over at Kipp, who thumped his tail on the floor.

  “And how do you feel, Kipp?” Fitzhugh took a sip of coffee.

  “I want to go…Petra and I have talked about it,” he replied, his eyes bright. Obviously the heater was too intense because he used his front paws to slow drag himself forward out of the circle of warmth, his soft underbelly of fur serving to ease the friction. “But I don’t want Petra to force herself,” he added.

  “You two love each too much to make a rational decision,” Fitzhugh said, smiling. “Lydea and I were close but nothing like you.”

  “Kipp saved my life,” I began before my voice broke. Our connection was deeper and more complex than any other symbiont pair.

  “And you saved me, too,” Kipp said, standing to come over and put his head in my lap. Leaning forward, I pressed my cheek against the fur on top of his head, enjoying the feel of his auburn pelt made toasty by the warmth of the heater. He licked my face in reply. “Life was hard back home as well as being lonely. Now I’ve become soft like a cream puff!” I knew he added the latter to soften the emotional tone of the moment.

  “There is no doubt that your meeting and subsequent bond is unique,” Fitzhugh commented as he sipped the cooling coffee. “Maybe Philo can help you to find the decision you seek.”

  Duke Forest had long been a favorite of mine, even before Kipp came into my life. Tula, my first symbiont, and I would go out into the woods and walk for miles, sometimes encountering people, many times not, as I searched for paths seldom trod. Smiling, I recalled, in my mind’s eye, a particularly lovely day, when the spring wild flowers had pushed through the soil to dot the forest floor with color, and the sky above was perfect, unblemished. The smile left my face as Philo’s car jerked between the yellow lines on the road. He was driving with his typical breakneck pace, swerving along curves on tires that had seen better days. After one particularly vicious yank on the steering wheel, Kipp, an intrepid passenger most of the time, was forced to give an opinion.

  “Okay, Philo. I’m about to get out and walk if you don’t quit slinging me around back here,” he complained. “That last move left me with whiplash.”

  “Sorry,” Philo muttered, his apologetic eyes meeting Kipp’s accusatory ones in the rear view mirror. Kipp must have been more persuasive than I because there was a noticeable deceleration. I usually just strapped myself in and prayed.

  It was cold; the parking area was empty because most people with any kind of common sense had decided to not freeze to death in the midst of the woods, where their rigid bodies would be left, undiscovered, until the following spring thaw. I was wearing my fleece jacket that L.L. Bean promised would keep me warm to twenty below zero. After tugging on my gloves and hat, I trotted to catch up to Philo and Kipp who were walking doggedly ahead, their steps hurried as if to force some modicum of warmth to their extremities. Our feet swooshed through fallen leaves bunched in wind driven piles against the bases of trees and in the hollows, which dipped and curved unpredictably with the lay of the land.

  The brilliant colors of autumn were sadly gone; all that remained were brown, withered leaves still attached in ragged patches to the tree limbs. A stubborn wind wound through the forest, the breeze causing the limbs overhead to scrape heavily against one another. As the wind touched a clustered stand of American beeches, the silvered leaves trembled, making a soft sound, adding to the dialog of nature. Their leaves were the most tenacious and would be hanging on until spring when new green growth managed to force the dead debris to fall to the forest floor. None of us spoke as we walked deeper into the woods; Kipp kept his thoughts curiously guarded and closed to me.

  We arrived at a rock ledge overlooking a meandering, curving stream. The water mirrored the deep blue color of the sky, making the stream look like flowing turquoise contained between the muddy banks; a ray of sun seemed to be caught in the water, which flashed quicksilver in the light. Philo leaned down to spread out a throw so that the three of us could recline in that barren place.

  “I knew it would be cold and have no wish to freeze my butt completely off,” he said, his mouth twisting in a smile. “This is good,” he said, meaning our time together. “It feels like it used to,” he added, his tone slightly wistful.

  I didn’t respond since I wasn’t sure what to say. Kipp caught my eye and twisted his head slightly at an angle, looking surprisingly like a big dog who hoped I might have a squeaky toy in my pocket. Smiling, I gazed at the water and allowed myself to be soothed by the sound of its flow over the smooth rocks of the stream bed.

  “I’m not stupid, you know, despite rumors to the contrary,” Philo continued. “My becoming the leader of the Twelve has affected our friendship. In fact, I’ve considered resigning. I don’t like the wall that is here,” he said, using his hands to create a space between us.

  We’d always been the best of friends, and I thought of him as the brother I’d not had. He’d been a sounding board and the one who always had my back and would defend me against all odds.

  “I wouldn’t want you to do that,” I said, continuing to gaze at the water. That was easier than looking at Philo. “You’re the best candidate for the job, and it would be ill advised for you to give it up.” Finally, I glanced at him. “We can work through this, Philo.” After a moment, I changed gears. “How’s Claire?” I asked, narrowing my eyes against the bright sunlight.

  “Mad at me…which seems to be the typical state of affairs as of late,” he replied, as he tossed a small pebble into the water.

  “What about?”

  “Silas, always Silas.” Philo turned to look at me. “I know more happened in London than you and Kipp will tell. And I suspect it wasn’t good,” he added with a sigh. “I love Silas, of course, since he’s my son, but he has some character flaws that disturb me. Claire, of course, can’t see anything at all and becomes defensive if the subject is even remotely broached.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, allowing the breeze to tease his hair that had escaped from beneath the wool cap he wore. When he opened his eyes, I followed his gaze as he stared at a shadowed copse, where the dull brown and gray palate of winter was broken by a bright flash of red as a cardinal flicked its wings to effortlessly land upon a high tree branch.

  “Sorry to get sidetracked,” Philo said with a lopsided smile. “I brought you and Kipp here to discuss the Titanic time shift without Peter and Elani to cloud the issue. I know how they feel, and I think I get Kipp, but the hesitant one is you, Petra. And frankly, given your history of some pretty dangerous doings, I’m surprised you’d not want to make a historic trip.”

  Kipp’s head went up as I listened in on his thoughts. Across the stream in a tightly bunched grove of young hackberry trees, there was movement; several white tail deer were walking, their bodies camouf
laged to perfection in the dead underbrush. The twisting witches’ brooms of the trees served to hide the deer, which were busy calculating their next move. The deer must have caught our scent because they suddenly wheeled as a group and dashed up the hillside, their white tails flashing as signal flags in retreat.

  “Maybe I’m getting older and wiser,” I replied, tilting my head back so that the sun could find my upturned face, praying a tiny bit of warmth might be found there. “I feel responsible for Peter and Elani,” I added lamely.

  “You’re neither old nor particularly wise,” Philo replied, his mouth twisting in a wry grin.

  “Thanks, I think,” I said with a laugh. “I talked with Fitzhugh this morning, and he told me he would make the trip if he were able. So, it seems I am the only one acting out of an abundance of caution. Maybe it’s an over abundance,” I added. “So, I guess I’m in.”

  Kipp snuggled closer on the throw, his warm body pressed against my thigh. He blocked his thoughts, but I knew he was happy. Neither he nor Peter or Elani had truly experienced horror as result of a time shift, but I had. Perhaps this would be crucial to their maturity as symbionts. Or maybe they would never desire to travel again. One way or the other, Titanic could be a deal maker or deal breaker.

  Chapter 12

  Suzanne breezed past me where I sat at a long table that was covered in books filled with clothing styles from centuries past. Even though Suzanne, who created designs for time shifts, had lived over four hundred, it was easier than one might think to lose track of what was popular and when. With that thought in mind, I recalled, somewhat wistfully, a fringed vest I wore during the 1960’s that I paired with some faded blue jeans. I think I had a beaded headband, too. After that time, fashion went rapidly downhill in my estimation…there was the 70’s era with wide ties and lapels for men, as well as pastel leisure suits with contrast stitching, an unspeakable horror that still resonated. I remembered a powder blue suit that Philo wore…the thought made me grimace. I scooted a bolt of cotton print fabric out of the way so that Suzanne would quit giving me worried glances over the cup of coffee I had placed on the table. Well, she gave it to me, after all. Our number of travelers was diminished of late, so Suzanne also did work for other collectives at times. She was skillful and in demand.

  The workroom was crowded; multiple tables were filled to overflowing with fabric being cut to the specifications of a particular client. The air smelt slightly musty, a result of the tangled bolts of fabric that were strewn haphazardly around the room. Suzanne’s assistant, a somber faced young female who rarely spoke, hovered nervously in the background. I didn’t think Suzanne was an easy taskmaster.

  “The Titanic,” Suzanne remarked. “That’s ambitious, and I don’t envy you.” Her expressive eyes were made even more dramatic by cat eye liner drawn with bigger wings than usual; her dark hair was upswept in a typically chaotic mess. Somewhere in the black strands lurked a pencil that she had stuck for future use. She normally wore bright red lipstick but had opted for a neutral tone; her features seemed pleasantly softened.

  “It was good to see you in the library,” I said, trying to draw her out for a little fun gossip. “It gets lonely with just Fitzhugh and Mark,” I added, knowing she’d have to bite at the comment.

  “I don’t see how it could ever get lonely with Mark there,” she replied, her face flushing prettily. “He’s dreamy.”

  I looked at Kipp and tried to not smile. Calling a male of any species “dreamy” had gone out in the 1950’s I thought. Well, it was kind of sweet, and I was happy she was interested in him. Fitzhugh seemed to think that Mark was a little smitten in return, so maybe we’d have a symbiont love match soon. Neither one of them was a traveler, so they would look for a stable relationship for the long term.

  “He was asking about you the other day,” I remarked, trying to look innocent as I took a sip of coffee. Kipp twisted his head to the side as he glanced at me.

  “Really?” Her face grew animated. “What did he say?”

  “Oh, just wanted to know if you were involved, that sort of stuff.”

  She began to hum a tune that was unfamiliar to me for a moment before I realized she was softly singing “People Will Say We’re in Love” from Oklahoma.

  “What is it with you guys that you get completely silly when you’re in love?” Kipp asked, his words meant for me alone. “You did it with Harrow…I mean, you could have lost your head and not realized you needed one. And now this behavior,” he said, looking at Suzanne, his tone slightly disapproving.

  “Oh, Kipp, it’s a wonderful feeling. You feel overwhelmed, full of anticipation and slightly dizzy all at once.” I sighed.

  “Doesn’t sound wonderful,” he huffed. “Sounds like the plague or influenza.”

  I had to remind myself that Kipp was still pretty young, after all, and was perhaps at the stage of a youth who was mesmerized by females and the thought of romance for a flash before becoming horrified at the very notion.

  “One day, you’ll get there and will be all goofy over some lovely lupine…maybe, Elani?” I was teasing him, and he returned my glance, eyes narrowed almost shut.

  “No way!” His ears flattened at my playful suggestion.

  Suzanne managed to refocus, which was timely, because Peter and Elani chose that moment to make their entrance. Peter struck me as maturing rapidly; his self confidence, having made more than one successful time shift was growing, and the effect showed on his face. Any vestiges of tentativeness or anxiety had dissipated leaving a calm, settled exterior. The end result was good and made him even more attractive. Not that I was interested, of course. He was much too young, and I still pined for Harrow. Where Philo was like a big brother, Peter was becoming a younger one, and I applauded his growth.

  “Hi!” Peter said.

  His jaw line looked suspiciously shadowed, and I realized he was working on a beard. I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see my lips tighten. Yes, he was trying to look older for some reason or the other. Peter was wearing his corduroy jacket that was most becoming, too. I wondered if he had a secret heart throb before reminding myself that his goal was to travel and nothing, at least for the near future, would get in the way of that.

  “Thought I’d work on some facial hair since it was popular at the time,” he muttered, drawing his hand along his jaw.

  “Looks good,” I replied, trying to sound upbeat.

  Elani wagged her tail in greeting before moving close to Kipp. Her precious heart was open to all…she had a crush on him and nothing would alter that fact. Kipp constantly tried to let her down gently, but she wasn’t gonna go without a fight. He looked up at me, amber eyes full of confusion. Despite his unprecedented talents and brilliant mind, he remained perplexed by the notion of romance. Suzanne managed to redirect the bizarre, conflicting energy in the room as she pulled out a large book on fashions that were in style just after the turn of the century. After offering Peter a cup of coffee, she sat next to me.

  “Well, of course, the silhouette for women was changing constantly. No hoop skirts,” she added, smiling at my soft applause. “The bustle was declining in popularity, and the idea was to enhance an “S” shaped curve to the body. There was a “health corset” which was less of an issue than the old fashioned type that compressed the ribs and abdomen. But, as an advancement for women, the use of a brassiere and chemise was gaining in popularity, and the corset was becoming a thing of the past.”

  “Sign me up,” I said, raising my hand. “You know how I feel about corsets, health or not. I will go the brassier and chemise route on this trip.” Peter ducked his head and laughed, his cheeks reddening a little at my remarks concerning ladies underwear. It was difficult, having become accustomed to sweat pants and t-shirts, to think of binding myself into a stiff garment. As I reflected upon my increasingly contrary nature, I wondered what I would be like in about another three hundred years?

  “You’ll be impossible,” Kipp replied in response to my private
thoughts. “But I’ll still love you, despite that.”

  Suzanne was frowning at me as if she suspected I’d drifted off from her tutorial. “You will, of course, have to obtain a suitable wardrobe once you get to England. If you plan on going to dinner, it will require formal wear.” Her pretty face darkened as her lips compressed into a straight line. “You won’t be able to get by with some tattered traveling costume.”

  “Well, I haven’t decided about dinner, since Kipp won’t be allowed,” I said, nodding at my partner. “But Elani is definitely pushing Peter, so he’ll need a tuxedo and all the appropriate accoutrements. Did men wear spats at that time? I can’t recall.” I darted a wicked glance at Peter, who laughed again. He was so excited over the trip, that my ribbing him was not having the desired effect.

  “For you, Petra, I recommend a two piece traveling garment. They were popular then, mostly tweed fabrics, with a shirt waist blouse, jacket and matching skirt. We can have a spare blouse and another skirt to stretch things a few days while you are shopping for other clothes.” Suzanne pulled the pencil from her tangle of black hair and began to take notes on a pad. I wondered who actually still used an old fashioned lead pencil that had to be sharpened and realized I’d found that person in Suzanne. “I probably won’t be able to convince my boss that we can let you have any antique jewelry, since you lost the stickpin we leant you during you last shift.” She stared at me, unblinking. “I got in trouble over that.”

  “It was an accident!” Kipp rushed to my defense, as Elani nodded vigorously. “We were on a pole car going really fast down a hill when it derailed. Petra must have flown twenty feet before she landed hard, rolling in a patch of grass and mud.” Kipp’s eyes opened wide. “You should have seen it!”

  Suzanne ignored me as well as Kipp and turned towards Peter. “You will be the most mobile character, Peter, since you are male. There will be greater opportunities for you to engage with a fellow male passenger, given the cultural norms of the day.”